As
the wounded and now-expiring president lay awkwardly on the carpet of the crowded
box, there was an air of pain and panic from those standing helplessly around him,
most of them uncertain and unprepared as to what is happening. However, outside the
theatre John Wilkes Booth was now preparing his hurried "flight plan" for escape,
to be joined later by the gullible and frightened co-conspirator, David "Davy" Herold.

It
seems these fleeing fugitives had arranged an appointment at the dubious Surrat Tavern
and previously: "Booth has instructed Mary to tell the tavern keeper John Lloyd, a
heavy drinking and former Washington policeman to whom she had rented her country
place, to get everything ready for the actor's visit this evening." Once there, the
two would collect rifles and an important spyglass; it might be good news as far as
they are concerned, but John Lloyd’s later litany of lies spewed out on a hot June
day at the trial concerning what Booth and Herold had collected and concealed that
fateful night would assist the prosecution to secure the hangman's rope around the
necks of four of the seated conspirators.

Earlier
on that fateful Good Friday, after failing in his amateur attempt to assassinate Secretary
of State Seward, Lewis Powell fled the scene of his crime like a scared rabbit and
went into hiding. He would later arrive suspiciously on the doorstep of Mrs Mary Surrat’s
boarding house at 10.30 pm with a suspicious shovel or pick axe held on his shoulder.
Unfortunately for him, armed soldiers had arrived earlier and were searching this
infamous boarding house, having been informed of the possible Booth/John Surratt connection,
and Lewis Powell's suspicious movements alerted them when he knocked on the door.
After this he would never go back to wandering the leafy streets of Washington as
a freeman ever again.

The
21-year-old Lewis Powell/Payne would somehow later claim that Mrs Mary Surratt had
asked him previously to prepare a ditch, yet when confronted with this information
in the hall by the captain of the guard, she would vehemently deny it saying: "Before
God, I do not know this man and have never seen him before. I did not hire him to
dig a gutter for me." He had in fact stayed frequently at her boarding house, posing
convincingly as Reverend Wood; his father was a man of the cloth, it seems. Lewis
Powell may well have previously been a spy operating for the Confederate Secret Service,
it has been suggested, or maybe he was just a failed actor who liked dressing up.
A big mistake, I suggest, by Mary Surratt being caught out in her lies. The Surratt
boarding house must also have captured the imagination of most of her neighbours because
there was jubilation throughout the city when General Lee surrendered his troops.
Her house, however, apparently failed to display any festive Union flags. Also, the
following day, when the death of the president was announced, her house displayed
none of the traditional black bunting or black drapes usually seen adorning windows
and doors as a mark of mourning and respect. This would certainly have made the police
suspicious of where the Surratt household’s true loyalties indeed lay, or maybe she
was just an attention seeker or whatever expression they used in those days. It would
only have been a matter of days before "the law" came calling on the lady of the house
again, only this time they would not leave empty-handed, as they had previously.

Drama
at the Ford Theatre

At
the theatre during the crowded pandemonium, Miss Laura Keene ‒ the popular star
of the play ‒ had elbowed her way somehow up into the crowded box after witnessing
and hearing the commotion in and around its limited space. Now lying before her was
the president whom she may have met previously; he lay mortally wounded on the floor
but was still breathing. To her, he would always be her president, but now he looked
defenceless and alone: "The scene riveted Keene and excited her theatrical instincts."
Yet she was confused and concerned for his creature comfort, and would enquire in
a whisper if she could perhaps cradle his bleeding head in her lap if possible. Dr
Charles Leale, the young 23-year-old U.S. assistant surgeon in attendance volunteered;
he had only qualified some six weeks earlier. In uniform, he slowly turned towards
a sobbing Mary Todd Lincoln, somehow silently requesting her agreement. Mrs Lincoln
gave her consent, then turned towards Dr Leale to ask in a pleading voice: "Oh physician,
is he dead? Can he recover?” He could only ponder her sadness before turning back
to his patient. As regards Miss Keene’s many motives and of what she achieved that
evening it has been written that: "She knew that history was being made in that box,
and she had convinced herself that she must be a part of it." Her place in history
is now secure and it "closed the curtain on Laura Keene's maudlin, private drama.
Her fame guaranteed," so writes author James Swanson.

Later
she was seen in "disarray, hair disheveled, not only was her gown soaked in Lincoln’s
blood but her hands and even her cheeks where her fingers had strayed were bedaubed
with the sorry stains. The actress who began the night in a light comic role now looked
like an apparition from a nightmare." There is some serious doubt that maybe those
blood splatters on her dress were perhaps not only Lincoln’s blood because he had
apparently bled very little from the head wound and perhaps most of it had emerged
from the seriously wounded Major Rathbone who was still bleeding profusely from a
deep arm "slash" delivered by a demented Booth. Clara Harris, the wounded major’s
fiancée “who had seen the whole thing, never forgot the forceful swing of Booth’s
practiced and powerful arm." Rathbone would naturally have been hovering close to
the fallen president with so much of his own blood accidentally dripping onto Keene’s
silk dress. This is an important possibility to consider and I think the suggestion
does make sense.

(Major
Rathbone)

Laura
Keene’s dress was spared the drenching that saturated the garments of Fanny Seward
and Clara Harris (Rathbone’s fiancée). Fanny and Clara's dresses did not survive.
But Laura Keene cherished the blood - and brain - speckled frock from that terrible
night, according to James Swanson. In fact, she would later be detained with the confused
cast of the play for questioning by the police, and it seems many from the audience
as well! What a night it must have been for all concerned!

It
was then decided, perhaps by collective decision, to journey with the president away
from the frenetic atmosphere of the theatre, but surprisingly not to the empty White
House as would have been expected. This latter option was apparently discounted due
to the distance and the decrepit state of the roads. Instead, the unprepared Dr Leale
had decided that a nearby boarding house would have to do. This spot was popularly
known as the William Person boarding house, a three-story brick-constructed house,
and was convenient for the caravan of medics to reach. Situated opposite the Ford
Theatre it would now have to act as a makeshift basic field hospital to care for America’s
dying commander-in-chief now arriving at the front door cautiously opened by one of
the boarders, a Mr Henry Safford. The president was carried by the struggling bearers
up the curved eight steps and was now seen in a collapsed, almost sitting position,
yet his head hung listless down on his chest, and he looked dreadful. Lincoln was
then taken to an unoccupied bedroom. It seems the room’s tenant was out celebrating
the end of the war (but not Mrs Surratt! More on him later), and won’t this man have
a surprise when he returns to his room from the city’s festivities of fireworks and
fun!

(Dr.
Charles Leale in old age)

For
some reason, this favoured room had apparently been previously occupied only the year
before when John Wilkes Booth was himself performing at the Ford Theatre. Not only
had he booked in at the same boarding house, but he amazingly occupied the same bedroom
where the president now hovered between life and death. What a bizarre coincidence!
Now inside the crowded room, Lincoln was laid diagonally on the bed due to his height
(6’ 4”), and the long and lonely vigil began for those seated or standing around the
borrowed bed (with many coming and going, it seems) as the president silently hovered
between life and death.

Later
he would be stripped of his clothes and tenderly wrapped in heavy army blankets with
heated china hot-water bottles to conserve his body heat, and with additional bottles
of brandy used to hopefully revive both Lincoln and some of the shocked onlookers.
Also brought into the equation was a mustard plaster bath fitted around the president’s
dying body. Outside the theatre, a crescendo of shouting was heard in the air as people
grappled with the terrible news that: “They have shot the president….” "Kill the rebels”…
"Kill the traitors” or "Oh no, it can’t be true.” Also heard as a lament would be:
"Who did it and why?" These were just some of the confused and blaspheming voices
lamenting that night’s events.

It
seems the jubilation of the earlier surrender has turned into tears of shame, shock
and sadness. Washington has never witnessed anything like this high drama being played
out before them. Heard in the confusion of the boarding house was Mrs Mary Lincoln
screaming: "They've killed him, they’ve killed him." No one is sure who she was referring
to or why. The grieving Mrs Lincoln had been followed into the sweltering room by
a wounded Major Rathbone, his army uniform sleeve now soaked in blood, along with
his shocked fiancé Miss Harris, and Miss Laura Keene bringing up the rear (yes, her
again). Then "doctor Leale leaned in close to the president’s face and nods, he was
still alive." Mary Lincoln now agreed to depart the small sleeping room, but she would
return later. Her eldest son Captain Robert Lincoln also arrived with Miss Clara Harris
and Laura Keene (yes, her), all to wait and maybe pray with all eyes on Mrs Mary Lincoln
staring into a coal grate. All silently prepared themselves for the doctor’s unrehearsed
prognosis on the fallen president’s deteriorating condition, and most now painfully
aware that it doesn't look promising.

Later
that evening, against the wishes of his friends, Vice President Johnson would arrive
and go to Lincoln’s bedside and gaze soberly at the dying Lincoln. He departed soon
after but before that, he would say a few silent words to Mrs Lincoln before wandering
off into the night, probably never to see Lincoln alive again: "He will choose not
to assert himself, instead he will leave it to Edwin Stanton to search for Lincoln’s
murderers and bring them to a swift slice of justice.

"The
doctors meanwhile probed the wound of the president with their bare, unsanitary fingers,
sticking their pinkies inside Lincoln’s brain because there was work to do inside
Lincoln’s brain." Poor man and he's not even dead yet! This crude procedure reads
like a pre-autopsy examination, does it not? Meanwhile, 13 miles outside the city,
John Wilkes Booths and fellow co-conspirator David Herold have now the empty dark
road to themselves and both confident they would escape the pursuing police as they
make for that drinking tavern owned by Mrs Mary Surratt in Surrattsville to collect
those important needed firearms and a spy glass.

Booth’s
escape incensed, but thrilled the nation. Photographs of him became so popular that
the government soon banned their sales, and "fantasy prints showed Satan whispering
in Booth’s ear moments before he shot Lincoln." Seems they couldn't get enough of
Johnny Wilkes Booth, and wouldn't he have loved such notoriety!?!

Throughout
the night a procession of the high and mighty of Washington’s political and possibly
Masonic circles arrived to look at the unconscious Lincoln. Edwin Steer, the author
of Blood on the Moon, estimates over 58 people were wandering in and out of
the stifling bedroom that night with additional household servants and others being
"press-ganged" into carrying and emptying overflowing chamber pots throughout the
night. I suppose someone had to do it and of course with no indoor plumbing then operating
in the house I can understand why. Oh, and thank goodness Dr Samuel Mudd wasn't one
of the attending doctors standing around Lincoln’s bedstead that night! But more on
him later.

One
important man who would arrive soon after the shooting and naturally place armed soldiers
at the front door of the house and elsewhere throughout the city now on lockdown would
be the Secretary of War, Edwin McMasters Stanton. In the next few frantic days in
American history, this gentleman would become the most powerful "unelected" man in
Washington, if not America, pulling all government strings towards himself without
interference, it seems, from anyone. But what motivated him in what he attempted to
achieve that night? Was it ambition or guilt, or perhaps both? It seems Stanton was
a complex man in his private and public life. After his arrival: "The Peterson boarding
house was (to become) the War Department tonight."

After
visiting the dying president’s bedroom, he would be informed by Dr. Leale: "It is
hopeless. Mr. Stanton quickly commandeers the Peterson back parlour as the temporary
seat of government. There he can also observe any coming and goings from the front
entrance."

If
Lincoln’s failing body was in the fragile hands of the attending doctors, then America
was in the capable hands of Edwin Stanton, with all power now being invested by himself
into his hands. This lawyer’s grip was secure. Stanton would not cease, it seems,
until the capture and punishment of Wilkes Booth and his co-conspirators, and that
included Mrs Mary Surratt. "Hundreds of telegrams were dispatched by Stanton and his
minions that night. Soon the wire sang back with messages to Stanton from military
commanders. We have received your news. We are obeying your orders."

All
Union soldiers quickly marched to the beat of Edwin "Mars" Stanton's tempo. This man
was to be obeyed, and without question it seems! This to me is awesome, ambitious
and naked power that perhaps even Abraham Lincoln never possessed or wanted for his
own use from the Oval Office in the White House.

Whilst
Secretary of War, Stanton had never had a lot of time for Lincoln, it seems. Their
social backgrounds were so different. Hadn't he called Lincoln “weak kneed” and been
often patronizing to the president, although I'm not sure Lincoln even noticed or
cared about Stanton's sharp sarcastic tongue. However, that night when Stanton entered
the boarding house we are informed that: "His nerves were jumping like devils. Always
erratic, Stanton was now in a panic his energy sometimes brilliant sometimes rash.
He believed himself to be the real ruler of the nation with his superior brain unlike
the softer will of Lincoln. Yet ferocious headaches had racked the Secretary for years,
asthma tore at his throat and a phobia which unbalanced his brain whenever he was
near a corpse." I can see how the corpse phobia would affect some people.

Now
at 56 years old, destiny had led him to this house and his role in history was being
played out all around him without a script or a director. He gazed down at the wounded
Lincoln. Then turning and hearing Mrs Lincoln’s sobbing he ordered an aide to: "Get
that woman out of here." He was instantly obeyed and she, poor lady, would be taken
and settled into a small cluttered parlour." "Stanton was now Czar." This man would
not abdicate one iota of his naked power and privilege nor would he allow it to be
taken from him. Destiny (he may convince himself) or God, for that matter, had designed
him for this supporting role and he would disappoint no friend or fool in twisting
its talents. Nor would he allow anyone to obstruct him or divert him in playing out
the final scenes in this American tragedy. Edwin McMasters Stanton was a man with
a mission, and "Mars" was in a hurry, it seems.

Stanton
somehow, it seems to me, was rather slow off the mark in issuing orders in apprehending
the suspect Wilkes Booth. After all, he had been identified after the shooting by
most of the theatre staff and some of the audience. So, what was the delay? Stanton,
I suggest, had also been made aware early that evening (perhaps by Col. Lafayette
Baker, head of the self-styled national detective police, or one of his favourites)
of potentially important street information from the colonel’s army of paid "informers"
that named Wilkes Booth as the prime suspect, and it seems he had a suspicious connection
somehow to a southern sympathizer, a certain John Harrison Surratt, the late postmaster
of the tavern in Surratsville.

With
this crucial information gained from who else but the military police, they would
pay a surprise visit on April 14th to that "widow woman’s" boarding house, Mary Surratt’s
establishment, and would enquire into the whereabouts of her son John. She would be
unable to assist with their enquires as her son John was away, it seems, somewhere
on business, possibly in Canada, or on “rebel business" perhaps.

Surprisingly,
they departed, much to her relief, only to return later. It is odd to me that only
hours after the Ford Theatre shooting, with the police politely knocking at Mrs Surratt’s
front door, that they then departed quickly after a cursory search of the premises.

So,
were they warned away and if so, by whom? Three days later on April 17th, they returned,
now under the command of a suspicious Major W.H. Smith whose orders were clear and
to the point: Arrest the residents and search the premises! Some new important information,
maybe received by Lafayette Baker and with Stanton’s knowledge, led them to this house
of treason. It did not look good for the Surratt house on 541, also known as 604 H
Street, this being the house of many crimes and secrets, and all would be revealed.

Years
later Major Smith would recall: "It was odd. Mrs Surratt did not ask even for what
she was arrested for, and expressed no surprise or feeling at all." All very strange
in this Washington melodrama. As written earlier, the stupid co-conspirator Lewis
Powell made an unexpected entry at the boarding house and would be taken away with
the other tenants for further questioning. Included in this dragnet was an innocent
Anna Surratt and other boarders, including an 11-year-old schoolgirl who lived alone
without her parents at Mary Surratt’s. I wonder what this little girl’s sad story
was.

Mrs
Surratt would be immediately transported to the old capitol prison. Not so many others
caught up in this drama! They would be held in cramped and stinking ship holds, these
being the "Montauk and the Saugus." Some earlier suspects would be released before
the trial of the eight began, and these were the fortunate ones.

Later,
the soldiers would search the boarding house and unearth "incriminating evidence,"
it seems, including small arms ammunition, a photo of President Jefferson Davis and
the coup de grâce: a picture of John Wilkes Booth hidden behind the picture frame.
This would certainly go against Mrs Surratt and the other seven co-conspirators who
would make their public appearances later in shackles before the nine seated military
prosecution officers of the Union Army.

Interestingly,
some years later General Thomas Maley Harris, one of the commission judges, wrote
a book detailing his research that the church of Rome was implicated jn the president’s
murder, and he always remained emphatic in this belief. And from what I have discovered
so far, it seems the general was correct in his research about the wicked church of
Rome!

Just
a small insight that should be mentioned, I think, concerning the arrest of Lewis
Powell, a.k.a. Payne: if he had not arrived unexpectedly on the doorstep of the Surratt
boarding house that fatal night "he might have escaped Washington and vanished from
history," speculates James Swanson and I think he is correct in this view. And as
for Powell's insanity plea that was raised at the trial by his defence, it seems he
suffered serious constipation cramps and just needed a simple laxative. Of course
it didn't help his defence when Secretary of State William Seward's wife Frances Adeline
died just two months after the attempted murder of her husband during the trial, either
from a heart attack or perhaps from the shock of what she had seen brutally inflicted
on her family when Lewis Powell crossed her family threshold with murder in his heart,
only to fail miserably. All at a terrible price, it seems, for her and her young daughter
and her sons as well.

Authors
David Balsiger and Charles E. Selier Jr. claim: "Payne and Powell were separate individuals.
The authors have obtained civil war service records on both individuals as well as
confession statements by conspirators, Michael Olaughlin and George Atzerodt, stating
that Payne and Powell were separate individuals here. The authors believe the new
evidence indicates that Payne was arrested and framed for his cousin’s evil deeds."
Yet confusingly we are informed that: “within hours of Powell's arrest William Bell,
William Seward’s servant, had clearly identified Powell as the knife-wielding maniac."
There might be some truth in this presented information, but then is it not all part
of the Lincoln conspiracy that has left so many unanswered questions that may never
be convincingly answered and perhaps never will be.

Meanwhile,
Edwin Stanton issued countless crucial orders as secretary for war in the Lincoln
cabinet, but this night in the Peterson house, one crucial order he would dispatch
was for all Washington bridges to be sealed to prevent Booth from escaping, or maybe
also to prevent still active Confederate spies from entering the darkened city, as
the country lay still witnessing the pangs of a weary war with suspected agent provocateurs
plotting among the community.

Amazingly,
however, escapee John Wilkes Booth did seemingly crossing the Navy Yard Bridge by
offering a bizarre password to an enquiring sentry, a certain Sgt. Silas Cobb, then
on duty. That mysterious word was "TBR" and amazingly, as they fell from his parched
lips, he was allowed to cross unchallenged. Later, David Herold would also find it
simple to gallop over the same bridge. Another mystery rider that night and now entering
this plot was a certain Edwin Henson, a suspected drug smuggler and friend of Wilkes
Booth who also seems to have been able to ride across that same guarded bridge. It’s
all amazing to me the amount of unchallenged outward traffic that night departing
from a so-called locked down and secured Washington.

As
regards the mysterious "TBR" uttered by Wilkes Booth. I can only speculate it means
perhaps "Tobacco Road" where later coincidently, it seems, Wilkes Booth or someone
else posing as him would be surrounded by soldiers in a large tobacco-curing shed,
of all places. There he would be cornered to be smoked out and wounded at Garrett's
farm. But whom, I wonder, provided Booth with that "magical" escape password that
led to his temporary freedom that night? Perhaps someone associated with the entourage
of Andrew Johnson, the Vice President.

Another
unexplained mystery from that night’s "comings and goings" that has never been satisfactorily
explained is who "for hours after the murder blacked out commercial telegraph lines
from Washington," and on whose orders? Yet the local inhabitants of a hamlet in outer
Washington had heard somehow that very afternoon of the shooting of the president,
all very strange and rather similar to what happened hours before the Kennedy shooting
in Dallas in 1963 when some headlines around the world proclaimed "Kennedy Dead.”
All very bizarre in both cases.

Earlier
that fateful Friday morning, John Wilkes Booth learned the staggering news relayed
to him by an excited Henry Clay Ford that the president and his guests, with perhaps
general Grant, would be attending his theatre that very evening to watch Laura Keene
appear in the thousandth performance of Our American Cousin. Hearing this,
Booth must have almost danced an Irish jig in excitement at what he had just learned
about the man he had loathed for so long, the man he blamed for what this cruel Civil
War had inflicted on his beloved "Gallant South" under Lincoln’s command.

After
gathering some of his coterie of co-conspirators for briefings that evening he later
decided to compose some final letters. Always cautious in promoting his conceited
image, in room 228 at the National Hotel he now committed to paper some of his reasons
for what was about happen to Lincoln. Once he had completed his task, he would sign
his own name as well as add, perhaps as an afterthought, the names of Lewis Powell/Paine,
David Herold and George Atzerodt.

Later,
at 11:30 pm he would pay a visit to Mrs Surrat’s boarding house, probably to prepare
and finalise his escape plans from the city, there with Mrs Surratt and maybe her
son listening in rapt attention about what he wished to achieve for the south and
himself of course. Unbeknownst to them both and silently watching was Lewis Weichmann,
one of John Surratt’s old school buddy "who remembered that he witnessed his landlady
and Booth in earnest discussion." Later, back on the street, Booth encountereds a
fellow actor, a Mr John Matthews. The two men were apparently old friends, with Matthews
coincidently appearing that evening at the Ford Theatre in Our American Cousin,
can you believe? Booth then sought a favour of this old friend and offered him a sealed
letter requesting that it be sent to the National Intelligencer, a daily newspaper
(now defunct), for the following day’s publication and for the attention of the editor
James C. Welling, probably to be delivered by hand. "Matthews accepted the sealed
envelope and slipped it into a coat pocket."

That
letter will be inserted in full into the final series of these articles on the Lincoln
conspiracy. A second Booth letter seems to have arrived on the editor’s desk (not
sure how). "The letter rambles on, disjointed, the product of an aggravated and anguished
mind." The letter attacks and names thirty-five speculators and politicians who, Booth
claims, will exploit the now bloody and defeated southern states. The letter was never
published.

Another
letter will reach Vice President Johnson's secretary Col. Browning, but was Browning
really Booth’s friend (it has been asked), because now Booth blames Browning for not
seeing him when he called at the "Kirkwood house" earlier. It seems he would quote
poetry, maybe some Shakespeare, in his letter to the colonel. But the point of it
all remains unknown unless, of course, both Browning and Johnson were personally involved
in this presidential plot to assassinate President Lincoln. Perhaps this letter was
written in some form of code known only to Booth and Browning. Didn't Booth always
love the dramatic? You also have to ask yourself, of course, who benefited most by
removing a sitting president, and of course it’s the immediate vice president, who
would naturally occupy the departed king’s throne. But perhaps uneasy lay his own
crown as well (in 1968, some years later, Johnson would be impeached). Politics, as
they say, is a dirty business.

In
their 1977 book The Lincoln Conspiracy, authors Balsiger and Sellier write
that Lafayette Baker had written an undated letter to Secretary of War Stanton. It
reads: "It is essential that I see you at once in regards to the card of Booth’s left
for Andrew Johnson. I have most confidential information to relate concerning Booth’s
acquaintance with president Johnson and others which you will find alarming. Your
obedient servant Lafayette C. Baker." I think this crucial letter proves that Booth
was connected with Andrew Johnson and perhaps other cabinet members in murdering the
defenceless President Lincoln at the Ford Theatre that night. However, I do not believe
William Seward was in on this plot, although he may well have heard rumours about
it. Did Edwin Stanton ever learn more about this "alarming" news from Baker? And if
he did, would he have acted upon this "crucial" information or just sat on it? Well,
who knows? I think by then, the die in the conspiracy had been cast and the future
litany of lies that would be spewed out during the coming military trial were being
written by complicit men and rehearsed to be recited later to perfection by them and
their cohorts.

It
gets interesting because it seems that later that night, after Booth’s friend and
fellow actor John Matthews had witnessed the commotion that had gone from shock to
sadness outside the Ford Theatre after the shooting of Lincoln, he may possibly have
actually witnessed the dying president in transit from the theatre to the boarding
house, but was unaware of who the escaping assailant was. Later, the poor man would
nearly be lynched by an angry mob mistaking him for John Wilkes Booth and it seems
there was indeed a similarity in appearance between the two men and maybe Matthews
acted as an understudy for Booth in previous plays. More important is that even the
baying crowd knew whom or had learned in some way or another that Wilkes Booth was
the suspected shooter in the Ford Theatre and was responsible for the president’s
wounds. Now with the fear of what he had heard about Booth and that he might be a
prime suspect in the Booth connection he quickly returned to his rented room and opened
the letter to read its contents, probably several times. Then he decided to destroy
its contents by quickly tossing the letter into the fireplace where it would burn
to ashes.

Fortunately,
Matthews possessed an eidetic memory. After all, he is a trained Shakespearean actor
and years later would be able to recite it to an enquiring journalist. Amazingly,
it seems, his rented room was situated in the Peterson boarding house, of all places.
In other words, as he destroyed Booth’s incriminating letter by consigning it to the
flames of history, the dying President Lincoln was fading away fast just a few floors
below Matthews’ room. If correct, this is amazing and I still find it difficult to
believe these events took place. But truth, they say, is stranger than fiction.

Now
returning to the dramatic events after the shooting: an unprepared Dr Charles Leale
would be a prominent player in one of the most iconic scenes portrayed in American
history, maybe even more so than the gunning down of John F Kennedy in Dallas, and
that's saying something.

Six
confused and shocked perspiring men, two of them being Dr Taft and Dr King, carried
the tall fallen president, their own commander-in-chief, with Dr Teal leading the
way, supporting the president’s dropping head. They finally departed the mayhem of
the Ford Theatre and moved into the gathering crowd outside. There, the dancing gaslights
cast a ghostly and unreal Luminas light on the now-paused presidential party which
looked as if they were attending a wake, and in a strange sort of way they were, except
the body they guarded wasn't cold as yet. Surrounding them now was a gathering of
onlookers of nearly one thousand Washingtonians, whose strained faces showed a shocking
picture of sadness and traces of fear diluted with grief etched on so many enquiring
faces. Some were praying silently, their dry lips moving in an unheard whisper. Many
would lean forward and touch this wounded president as he was carried past them rather
like touching a dead “saint’s” relic.

On
Tenth Street outside the boarding house I suspect it was probably unpaved with the
then daily debris of a city being revelled and covering almost every inch including
freshly dropped horse manure that had yet to be cleared away by refuse collectors,
if at all. Dr Leale now slowly paused in the middle of the road and realized the agitated
president was straining for air. He paused where he stood and still desperately searched
for a safe house, his eyes alighting on a possible refuge. After furtive knocking
on the oak door by a soldier, no one answered, at least not yet. No one was at home
or wished to open that saving door. Dr Leale then acted quickly concerning the president’s
laboured breathing and using his finger, he "yanks a blood clot from the hole in Lincoln’s
head to relive the pressure on the brain and tosses the gooey mass into the street.
Fresh blood and brain matter oozed through Dr. Leale’s fingers." Minutes later, this
human caravan of death was slowly admitted into the Peterson boarding house then owned
by William A. Peterson, a bespoke German tailor by trade.

The
front door was slowly opened by one of the shocked tenants, who slowly admitted the
uninvited guests. History would be acted out in this unlikely unassuming house in
the long night ahead. But now the dying president was carried carefully up the eight
steps, almost in a sitting position, it seems, to the open and now-welcoming front
door. Some of the crowds stood outside silently watching and weeping and unknown to
them: "This would be the last time Americans saw Abraham Lincoln alive," writes James
Swanson, and sadly Lincoln will never leave the house alive either.

Later,
in the now silent boarding house, it had been a long exhausting night and at 7.20
am the following morning the 56-year-old Abraham Lincoln’s pulse began to deteriorate.
There were possibly 22 people now standing silent and alert in that claustrophobic
room, only able to watch and wait for the welcome end of their own discomfort and
listen to the president’s agony as he gasped his last breath.

Mrs
Lincoln was noticeably absent but Edwin "Mars" Stanton was not. He now stood erect
like a silent sentinel at the bedside watching his president’s life slowly ebb away
like a retreating tide deserting the shore. But just somehow, I suggest, he was a
changed man after all of this, because he was now no longer Lincoln’s foe but a friend,
albeit it a late one. From now on, he would do all he could to secure Lincoln’s place
in history, commencing of course with the coming funeral arrangements to be tailor-made
for a president in a manner fitting even for a king. It would be a display of grief
previously unseen in this young republic yet to gain its supremacy.

At
7.20 am, exhausted and emotional Dr Charles, who had been at Lincoln’s side for 9
hours, placed his hand on the president’s right radial pulse. At 7.22 and 55 seconds,
it was over. He was gone. “He is dead,” one of the doctors said. I suggest it was
Dr Leale whose unexpected tenure as the president’s attending physician was now finally
complete and his place in history now as secure as the Rock of Gibraltar.

There
was silence for a few minutes, Lincoln’s pastor then summoned from the church (he
very rarely attended) to recite a useless prayer over the corpse and "that later not
even he could remember what he had said," the pastor would sadly recall to friends
who enquired of what he had uttered that morning.

It
fell to Edwin Stanton to shatter the overwhelming silence by declaring: "Now he belongs
to the angels." Others claim that he whispered: "Now he belongs to the ages" to no
one in particular. This sounds to me more like Edwin Stanton's vocabulary.

The
exhausted Dr Leale closed the dead man’s eyes, placing coins on each of the eyes and
then drew up the sheet. It is reported he had held the dying president's hand all
night, a labour of love he would later remember when asked to recall that night at
the Peterson boarding house.

One
man at the Ford Theatre that night and apparently later present at the Peterson boarding
house as well was Horatio O. Cooke, one of Lincoln’s successful spies and friends.
After the war had ended in 1865, he became a professional magician and "near the end
of his life, he became close friends with Houdini." This is very interesting to me
because just last week, dear sister Helen suggested and encouraged me to perhaps write
something on Harry Houdini for the October newsletter, and I thank her for it. God
willing, it will be completed.

Later,
sitting alone in the bedroom with Lincoln, Edwin Stanton retrieved a small pair of
silver scissors from his jacket pocket and cut a generous lock of hair, more than
a hundred strands and sealed it in a small envelope for Mrs Mary Wells, the wife of
the Secretary of the Navy and a friend of Mrs Lincoln. A
nice but rather macabre gesture from a man who did not care to be around corpses,
it seems.

The
only evidence of how that bedroom appeared soon after the president had been taken
away is seen in a grainy picture of the bedroom taken by one of the two enterprising
boarders then living in the house, they being Henry and Jules Ulke. That photo taken
with a tripod by the brothers lay undiscovered for nearly a century until found in
a library cellar. Also unearthed and of interest was a possible historic picture of
the president lying on his deathbed, again taken it seems by one of the Ulke brothers.
This is yet to be confirmed, but it does bear an uncanny and striking resemblance
to the departed president, does it not? Later, the landlord or someone else would
discard one of the bloodstained pillows out of the window and into the street. It
seems the landlord would decide later to charge visitors to view the bedroom, minus
one of the bloodstained pillows, of course. Some people will do anything for money,
won’t they?

Later
that evening, a Mr William Clerk "the tenant of the room returns and find his room
in a shambles. That night he climbed into Lincoln’s deathbed and fell asleep under
the same coverlet that warmed the body of the dying president." Amazing, I recall
a story my late father told me that when he arrived in London in the mid-1930s, he
was unable to find accommodation because of his Irish nationality. He frequently saw
on boardinghouse windows a printed notice that stated: "Rooms to let but no blacks,
Irish or dogs." He also recalled that many beds were rented out by the hour, so as
one worker came off a shift to go to sleep, the sleeping occupant would leave that
(warm) bed to go to who knows where. But it seems that some considerate landlords
did provide pillows to occupants, so things weren't that bad, were they, in the “good”
old days!!

After
leaving the boarding house the deceased president would then be escorted under military
guard to the White House and placed in a plain pine box. Someone remarked sarcastically
that it resembled a shipping crate but "Lincoln would not have minded, he was always
a man of simple tastes."

Then
at the White House the corpse would be removed to the popularly named "Prince of Wales"
bedroom to await autopsy by Edward Curtis and Joseph Barnes, both surgeons, of course.
Afterwards, it seems that Mrs Lincoln requested a lock of her husband’s hair; this
would be taken for the grieving widow by one of the attending surgeons and each man
would be offered a lock of the president’s hair. After President Kennedy's death,
his wife Jackie also removed a lock of her husband’s hair as a keepsake as he lay
in his casket. Then, during the hastily arranged autopsy, that fatal bullet or lead
ball would pop out of the mucous, membrane or medulla, then land on a waiting silver
dish. Today, it can be seen in a museum in Maryland and there is still some doubt
of what the bullet actually weighs. Apparently, after the autopsy one doctor removed
and took home a small fragment of Lincoln’s skull and another doctor discovered some
blood stains on his shirt, and amazingly both doctors would preserve and revere them
later, so much so that they became treasured family heirlooms. This sounds so like
Catholicism in their macabre veneration of blood and bones, all very unhealthy and
non-Biblical as well. Then later the body would be professionally prepared for open
display by paid embalmers.

Performing
this task would be Dr Brown, the same technician who had embalmed the president’s
eleven-year-old son Willie in 1863 after his sudden death of typhoid fever in the
Green Room of the White House. It is then decided that Willie’s coffin would accompany
his father’s on the long funeral train journey to Springfield. Before then, Lincoln
would be dressed in the same clothes he had chosen to wear for his second inauguration.
Someone said he had not worn these clothes since that day on March 4th 1865. Mrs Lincoln
did not attend these preparations of her husband’s body nor was she present on the
slow-moving train to accompany the coffins of her husband and her young son for entombment
in the family mausoleum then being prepared in Springfield, being too distraught to
leave her darkened White House bedroom. Poor woman, she must have been so emotional
and in a fixed state of shock.

Now
Edwin M. Stanton will offer "$100,000 REWARD! THE MURDERER of our late beloved President
Abraham Lincoln IS STILL AT LARGE." And in his future sights were John Wilkes Booth,
John Surratt, his mother Mary and David Herold. But for them and other suspects, the
manhunt was on and up and running.

Edwin
Stanton needed help. By the third day, it had become obvious that he could not devote
his time exclusively to the manhunt, as he had a lot on his mind. He had almost broken
down after Lincoln died, but his brain was able to rule his heart. There were other
concerns: a war to win. And without Lincoln at his side, Stanton had to go on alone.
The new president (Johnson) was not ready to assume the role of commander-in-chief.
Stanton had to arrange Lincoln’s majestic funeral and then send the body on an unprecedented
national tour on the way home to Springfield. I do wonder what sustained him through
all of these long hours because he must have also suffered days without sleep and
always with some new military or state problem being brought to his office to ponder
over and solve. Did he pray, I wonder, for courage and guidance from God? Was he a
believer, who knows? But pull through this during the period of mourning for the nation
he certainly did. These days, I suggest, would be Edwin Stanton's finest hours, his
glory days when he almost ruled America. He died in 1869 aged only fifty-five, the
same year that John Wilkes Booth was removed from the secret grave that Edwin Stanton
had consigned him to. Four years later, President Johnson ordered John Wilkes Booth’
body to be returned to his waiting family, then later being interred in Maryland with
the deceased Booth family members.

Many
today still visit John Wilkes Booth’s grave and place a small stone on its surface
for some strange reason, and I know it’s a Jewish custom as well. I suspect that few
will visit Edwin McMasters Stanton's grave in Washington or know where it is or even
care.

In
researching this article for our ministry newsletter I have come to have a rather
growing admiration and respect for Edwin Stanton, a man I knew nothing about before
I started my research on Lincoln or had even heard of. I have none for the others
who stood trial except for Anna Surratt and for young Fanny Seward (who died a year
later after the terrible events in her family home). Both young ladies never fully
recovered emotionally from those events of Good Friday in 1865. I suspect all involved
with the assassination of Lincoln were probably unsaved, but for the born-again Bible-believer
the Judgment Seat of Christ (2 Corinthians 5:10) beckons. All others will be summoned
one day to stand before the Great White Throne Judgment as described in the Book of
Revelation 20:11-15.

The
funeral

At
the White House, in the confusing days before the funeral, Edwin M. Stanton watched
events unfold, still dispatching his commands, nothing missing his eagle eye. He would
prepare and promote Lincoln’s funeral with relish, taking it upon himself to perform
this task with all the dignity his professionalism could show.

Throughout
the long night, carpenters, painters and other journeymen would labour and toil in
the White House to erect a seating plan for 600 invited guests. The coffin had now
been replaced with a $1,500 mahogany design showcase, that simple packing case consigned
elsewhere. The catafalque was assembled from walnut, and now stood at 15 feet high
with a domed canopy of black silk cloth covering it. On the walls of the East Room,
the mirrors were draped in black alpaca and white crepe, a touch of superstition that
was common in the day. An impressive sight indeed, but was there a Holy King James
Bible on display? We can only hope so.

Bells
would later toll and the crowds would gather to file past the open prepared coffin
where the president’s head lay resting on a white silk pillow.

(Supposedly
Lincoln on his deathbed)

Seen
in the crowd of many mourners would be the 22-year-old Captain Robert Lincoln with
his 12-year-old brother Tad. "His face swollen with tears, scarlet with bursting chokes,"
is how a friend of the family remembered him. Earlier, Tad had asked the Navy Secretary:
"Oh Mr. Welles, who killed my father?” Mrs Mary Todd Lincoln did not attend the service.

But
for now, rehearsed religious rituals from paid church pastors would be heard, along
with pitiful recited prayers and empty eulogies. Lincoln was not a religious man.
His family were Baptists but it seems, he was a skeptic who naturally kept his views
to himself for political reasons. Interestingly, he once remarked that the two books
in his log cabin home were the Holy Bible and the collected works of Shakespeare and
there’s nothing wrong with that, I suggest. During this time of mourning, many ministers
in lofty pulpits in Washington, Chicago and New York would falsely equate him with
Moses and even Jesus, which is blasphemous!

Of
course, many were deeply upset that he should even be in a theatre at all and on "Good
Friday" at that. One eloquent pastor put it like this to his parishioners: "Would
that Mr. Lincoln had fallen elsewhere than at the very gates of hell, in the theatre
to which, through persuasion, he reluctantly went." All seemed to preach and proclaim
that Lincoln had been forced to visit the Ford Theatre that night. This is not true.
All of them were wrong in their condemnation of Lincoln and his theatre attendance.
The man simply wanted to go to take his mind away from the war.

"The
Service over, Abraham Lincoln’s trip to myth land began," wrote one author. Well,
myths have to be manufactured somewhere, don't they, so why not a theatre or concert
hall?

Eventually
departing the White House, six white horses with black tassels and flounces would
carry the hearse to the Capitol rotunda, the coffin was set on a high platform in
a case of glass. All the silent and standing spectators would stare as it passed before
their eyes. Few would forget this once-in-a-lifetime spectacle as it passed before
them in solemn silent splendour. This was Lincoln’s lasting legacy, something I’m
sure he would have abhorred.

Finally,
under the impressive 180-foot-high rotunda, the murdered president’s coffin would
be situated on a raised catafalque that, since that day, has been a required stand
for each departed president’s coffin to be placed for inspection by the public. But
now Lincoln’s bier will be covered by a canopy revealing a gilt eagle covered with
crepe and perhaps some other mysterious religious hieroglyphics symbols on open display.

Such
former presidents as Kennedy, Reagan and Eisenhower are three of the ten state ceremonies
hosted at the famed rotunda. However, Woodrow Wilson, Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman
and Richard Nixon all declined this honour for private reasons. I doubt Lincoln would
have demanded or desired for a funeral of this magnitude, or for it to be held in
his honour. It will be interesting to learn in the future if Barack "Barry" Obama
accepts or refuses this honour for his own coffin, or for that matter Donald Trump,
and I think I know the answer to both of these questions.

Once
the pomp and ceremony had ceased, the heavy coffin departed for the station to transport
the president’s body on "the funeral train" to travel on a thousand-mile journey to
Springfield, stopping at ten chosen cities on the way and passing through a hundred
small towns and hamlets for the waiting public to watch the train steam by. It is
estimated an amazing 25 million people who wished to pay their last respects watched
the train on its journey, all run with military clockwork precision. Edwin Stanton
would accept nothing less, but it was not all over yet.

The
final journey

A
nine-car rail carriage in no expense funeral train draped in black silk and Hessian
(of course) with a large portrait of Lincoln fixed to the front of the engine now
awaited at the station for these very important passengers to be delivered. The convoy
would be equipped to cater for three hundred people invited along and amongst them,
would be a skilled mortician and obliging undertakers all ready to perform their skills
with the wax and lipstick and other tricks up their black frock coats. The open coffin
was to be viewed at many appointed city stops and displayed in many locations on its
journey to Lincoln’s final resting place.

Naturally,
the decaying corpse would need constant work on the face for the president needs to
look as if he were resting, rather like Sleeping Beauty. Thousands of waiting mourners
would slowly and silently file past the cadaver at stations and town halls. Mrs Lincoln,
it seems, would not be aboard the train. I do wonder if Dr Charles Leale was on board.
He was, after all, in the honour guard for Lincoln’s body in Washington and I'm sure
he would have seen it as his duty to accompany the deceased president to his final
resting place. Was Laura Keene perhaps offered a golden ticket for the ride and if
so, I hope she did not wear or bring along that blood-soaked dress that she displayed
at the Ford Playhouse that fateful Good Friday.

With
Lincoln’s final arrival into his hometown on May 3rd, his journey had now ended. Yet
over the next few years, his body would be moved and relocated many times; there would
even be a botched body snatch, can you believe? Later, Mary Todd Lincoln and two of
her sons would finally be interred there with her husband. Captain Robert Lincoln
would himself be buried at Arlington National Cemetery. I personally suggest the Lincoln
monument at Oak Ridge cemetery is way over the top, and I suggest that even good old
"Abe" Lincoln would agree with me on this, well, I hope so.

Finally,
there is an interesting little mention told in Nigel Blundell and Roger Boar’s book The
World’s Greatest Ghosts and it concerns the fabled Lincoln train, so I quote it
in full: "President Lincoln’s coffin was carried on a special funeral train, which
stopped for eight minutes at each station along the route so people could pay their
respects. Soon afterwards there were reports of a phantom train. It was draped in
black and bore the president’s coffin. One carriage carried a band of skeletal musicians.
As the ghostly train passed along the funeral route, clocks stopped for exactly eight
minutes."Well,
make of this what you will!

Meanwhile,
after escaping Washington John Wilkes Booth would be joined by a willing accomplice
David Herold, with other shadowy conspirators also joining him on the trail.They
would eventually be forced to seek medical aid, plus some warm food and shelter wherever
they can find it. Once Booth sought fame and fortune; now he was a fugitive being
hunted like a sewer rat. Once Booth had basked in thunderous applause and warm adoration,
but now he could only fear the shame of being apprehended and caged like a lark and
be gawped and pawed at. But for John Wilkes Booth, it may well be his final appearance,
later played out at Garrett's farm before an audience of invited soldiers no less.
I suspect he had decided he would not be taken alive. But Edwin Stanton, now patiently
waiting in his office in Washington for news of Booth’s capture, would be sorely disappointed
if his quarry was dead. Hadn't his personal hope always been to apprehend and arrest
all of those willing conspirators who assisted Booth in the murder of the president
and see them swinging from a rope and especially John Wilkes Booth?

However,
once in the subdued post-Lincoln Washington era, the police hastily assembled a "dragnet"
and Edwin Stanton's fuelled obsession was now in overdrive, locating the other fugitive
co-conspirators now under arrest. Also it should be remembered, "Stanton and others
were certain that Booth was merely the agent of a confederate conspiracy." I think
he was probably correct in this early assumption of what had happened leading up to
the shooting at the Ford Theatre on the Friday night. All that was missing so far
for Stanton's satisfaction was the capture and arrest of John Surratt as well. If
you recall, he disappeared hours after the shooting in the theatre. And it seems that
he was offered some important assistance of possible papal protection by the church
fathers to desert the country. His sick mother, incidentally, was soon to be visited
by these priests ministering and praying the rosary with her, as she now festered
in a hot prison (much more on Surratt later).

Many
others (innocent or not) were being detained as well in most of Stanton's assorted
military stockades and elsewhere in the capitol. The evidence was often fabricated
for those brought to trial and administered at the prepared illegal military court.
It must also be remembered that Edwin Stanton was one of the first of Lincoln’s cabinet
to arrive at his old friend William Seward’s home after the failed attempted murder
of the old man and there he witnessed that: "The bed was saturated with blood then
the rest of the nightmare came into focus: Fanny Seward, wandering like a pale ghost
her dress dripping with blood." I suspect this sight of the young girl whom he had
known since she was a small child must have affected him more deeply that even he
would realize.

The
terrible sight and shock of his old friend lying bloodied and wounded on a soaked
eiderdown must also have spurred him to track down those wicked men who had perpetrated
these deeds on an old Cabinet friend and his innocent young daughter Fanny. They would
be punished with the full force of the Government which was now secure in Stanton's
safe capable hands.

Incidentally,
I have just learned by chance that 12-year-old Tad Lincoln was watching and enjoying
the pantomime "Aladdin" at the Grover's Theatre in Washington with his tutor when
the terrible news was announced from the stage by the manager that his father had
just been shot and perhaps be dead. Poor boy! It seems that all who sat or stood were
standing around him could hear his pitiful sobbing in that shocked theatre. He would
not be comforted! He was then rushed home to the White House. Sadly, his simple request
to be allowed to be taken to the Peterson House to say goodbye to his beloved "Pa"
was refused. I wonder who made that cruel and wrong decision. Six years later he himself
was dead of tuberculosis. Also on that popular pantomime path was John Wilkes Booth,
who would apparently hire a vacant theatre when possible for the coming Christmas
season employing hundreds of fellow unemployed actors and musicians during those hungry
years of the Civil War, thereby enabling many to earn money for that expensive overrated
date in December that has nothing to do with the birth of the Lord Jesus Christ. Funny
enough, one of the most popular productions Booth produced and probably directed himself
was that old festive favourite "Aladdin," and no, I don't think I was ever taken to
see it in my youth a hundred years ago.

They
say justice is blind, don’t they? But it was never true in Edwin Stanton’s case. This
driven, perhaps demented man who, it seems, at times never slept knew exactly what
he desired and demanded of himself and of others who crossed his path in those post-assassination
hours. The Secretary of War would now appoint himself as judge and jury in seeking
swift atonement for the murder for his commander-in-chief and for this he would go
that extra-long crooked mile (legal or not) to achieve this. With a hand-picked tribunal
aiding him, he would probably succeed (he would argue this not only for himself, but
also for the Union and for Lincoln, the lost president who would never return). For
Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton, revenge would always be justified and always best
served cold from a Hallmark silver platter. "But vengeance is mine, I will repay,
saith the Lord." (Romans 12:19). We also learn that "Stanton did not suffer fools.
He couldn't." Yet to me he was still very much a principal player in the ongoing open
conspiracy concerning Abraham Lincoln’s death, and yes, John Wilkes Booth as well,
concerning the mystery of whether he was in that barn that night when surrounded by
Union soldiers or whether he was miles away, easily escaping to a new life and a new
name. These are all unanswered questions that are being exhibited but must finally
be exposed one day.

I
also learned that "If any man sat at Lincoln’s right hand during the war of rebellion
it was Edwin McMasters Stanton." But for now he was preparing to wage his own private
battle on the suspected men and one woman who murdered Abraham Lincoln.

"He
was determined to apprehend the criminals," we are informed. But first there would
have to be a trial and its final outcome would be significant in American jurisprudence.

Sister
Helen has once again provided an excellent and methodical write-up of our summer outreach,
which saw over 10,000 tracts distributed and our banners seen by thousands!

Every
outreach is like a treasure box. We are never sure of what we will encounter, whether
believers, unbelievers, scoffers, weather, accommodations, illness, attacks from the
evil one, and so on. This time around, it was no different. So much so that we found
ourselves having to change plans almost daily, at least that’s what it seemed.

A small
group did some street work in Manchester and surroundings, immediately following the
terrorist attack at the Ariadna Grande concert on May 22nd. Then we all travelled
from our different homes and continents to meet in Cambridge from 1-12 June. Although
England had suffered a heat wave the week before, it was cloudy at times and sometimes
quite rainy during our stay. A few of us even had to buy warmer clothing!

We
found a couple of good spots in the pedestrian area of the center of Cambridge, in
Cambridgeshire (England) and spent the first five days there. Reception was not too
bad, although the first day, James and Patrick had their first encounter with the
“town atheist,” a man who peppered them with expletives and facetious questions, without
taking a breath or allowing them a spare moment to answer. This was not the first
encounter, more later.

Along
with working our local town center throughout the day, a few went door-to-door early
mornings and early evenings, letterboxing gospel tracts. Time is very much the essence
during such an outreach. Brother
Martin joined us on Saturday, and we had a lovely day in town where many passersby
accepted a tract but few stopped to speak. We spent the next few days in Cambridge,
and although we did not have many conversations, almost every single one was with
someone from another belief system or religion.

Our
first mishap was that the megaphone to broadcast an audio version of the Gospel of
John had been left behind in Manchester, but we figured out a way to use Bluetooth
between a portable speaker and an iPad to substitute the original plan. Certainly
an example of the Lord directing our steps! Brother
James had quite a long conversation with a cheerful lady from the Bahá’i Faith, the
first such person he had ever met. She explained her own ideas briefly and he encouraged
her to find a Bible and read it.

Sister
Tantri was challenged by a young man rather caught up in a Calvinist set of beliefs.
He did not seem to have given thought to the meaning of many Scriptures, but James
also joined her to help open the Scriptures as much as they could. On
Saturday, the “town atheist” had another go at Patrick, who also spoke briefly with
this man’s wife. His anger and questions seemed to reveal some kind of religious upbringing,
and evidently something had happened in the past to sour him completely on the Lord
and the Bible, although he had quite an extensive knowledge of the Bible passages
and seemed almost as able to twist them as the devil himself.

Another
day, brother Enrique had a nice conversation with two young people who were Seventh-day
Adventists, one a former Hindu and the other a former Catholic. They seemed to understand
some Biblical concepts but not all (as common with this sect), and as usual, this
conversation devolved into a discussion of Sabbath-keeping. Although, Helen explained
Ellen White’s many false prophecies regarding the date of the Lord’s coming, they
felt we were misinformed. Perhaps they will investigate this sometime in the future
and come to understand the true gospel.

Brother
James was quite surprised by six young Jewish men in their early 20’s who came over
to comment on his shoes and ask about the banner, which had a verse from Hebrews.
James’ friendly tone apparently put them at ease as he mentioned that yes, Hebrews
was the name of a book in the New Testament. They had no idea! Three of these stayed
a few moments, one of whom quickly left. James asked the remaining two to explain
what they had been taught and believed about three key Messianic passages in the Old
Testament, namely, Isaiah 53, Zechariah 12 and Psalm 22, and also about whether they
really could keep the law and how can they atone for their sin. What they do with
it, well, only time will tell, but it was truly a joy to speak to the Lord’s chosen
people in such a brief manner and hopefully, they will remember the conversation over
their lifetime and understand the great love that the Father has to have sent His
only Begotten to gain our salvation through His blood.

On Sunday,
we saw our “town atheist” again, this time he was a bit toned down and even invited
Brother Patrick for a coffee, but it seems his anger just got the better of him, and
he couldn’t help but spew out bitter questions and some choice words, which led Patrick
to walk out. Shortly afterwards, this man came over to three of us, verbally attacked
Patrick again, had a few words with James who rebuked him, and even tried his hand
at Helen with the “same-old, same-old.”

We met
a lady who said she was born again some years ago, apparently does a fair amount of
tracting in Cambridge and surroundings, was KJB and seemed to have had a rough background,
but she was surprisingly very anti-Zionist and quite upset, even a bit angry, at how
apathetic people were. She turned out to be from Spain, so we had a few words with
her in Spanish, too.

We met
a young American lady who was studying at Cambridge University. Sister Jane had a
nice conversation with her and she seemed very sincere, perhaps a new Christian not
entirely well grounded. Still, it was rather surprising that when James asked her
if she read her Bible, her answer was: does it matter? She seems to have some Charismatic
or Pentecostal leanings, so we hope she gets a hold of a Bible and sticks to it alone.

Brother
Patrick recognized the former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams as he walked
right by with a disdainful look. This man confesses to also being a druid, can you
believe it? Well, at least he saw the banner, we’re sure. After
several days in Cambridge, it was felt that we were seeing the same people again and
again, so we began to look at other possibilities. In hindsight, this was the Lord
most certainly directing our steps. On Wednesday, we went to Huntingdon, where many
people accepted tracts but we had few conversations. Sister Jane had a most interesting
conversation with the taxi driver on our way there, but it’s hard to tell how much
he was just being chatty and how much he was truly listening.

To our
surprise, we came across a free Oliver Cromwell museum, which James obviously visited,
photographed and filmed for his future article. In fact, we were amazed how much of
the east of England remains dominated by Cromwell, in way of plaques and statues.
We also happened by “chance” to come across his house in which he once lived in with
his family. More photos and videos were captured of course.

Sister
Helen had this most unusual conversation with a Catholic who asked her:

“Have
you ever thought of becoming a Catholic?”

“Why
would I do that? I used to be a Catholic until I heard the true gospel when I was
15.”

“And
what do you think is the true gospel?”

“Well,
I already knew that Jesus died for me and rose again, and that I was a sinner and
could go to Hell but I didn’t know that salvation was a free gift, that I could do
nothing to earn it and that in fact, I had to come with empty hands. Catholics add
tradition to the Scripture, and that’s not okay”

“You
really need to come back to Mother Church, to the glories of the Eucharist!”

“I wouldn’t
dream of it!!”

On Thursday,
we went to Ely and despite the rain we had some people accept tracts, including an
elderly gentleman of around 90, a Baptist, who seemed saved. He asked us “How long
have you known that?” (referring to the Hebrews banner) and so we asked him “Are you
saved?” to which he replied, “I know where I’m going...off to meet my wife who was
promoted to glory 9 years ago.” He even grabbed another tract and crossed the way,
to give it to someone he knew. Yes, you are never too old to give someone a tract!

Brother
James had a conversation with a halfway-lapsed young Catholic man who listened carefully.
Only the Lord knows what will come of it. And there were even a few surprising types
who, despite their oddities and evident sins, accepted tracts. (True story: we often
find that those we’re sure will accept a tract are those who refuse, and vice versa.
So, never refrain from offering a tract based on looks!)

Brother
James and Sister Jane had a long conversation with an agnostic who had many questions
and seemed sincere in them, but didn’t seem too interested in hearing their opinion.
He was an older gentleman and seemed to have too many years of unbelief and blindness
to readily accept the gospel. It is our hope he will go back to read the Bible some
more.

On Friday,
we went to St. Ives, and were well received. Tracting was evidently something the
population was not familiar with, as they were mostly rather happy to accept them. On
Saturday, we travelled two hours to Peterborough on a bus. Due to the train schedule,
it looked like we would only have an hour to spend there, but tracting was so well
received that we decided to stay another hour. There was quite an ambiance there,
with some kind of motorbike thing going on. We even had some tough bikers accept a
tract and carefully put it in their satchels or pockets; we can only imagine they
have seen more than their share of friends lost to accidents and more aware of death
than usual.

On Sunday,
we spent our last few hours in Cambridge, and had several conversations with a young
fellow in his late teens from Malaysia. It seemed he understood some of the gospel,
but thought that being born again was the same as baptism. Still, he did seem eager
to understand more, but despite some stumbling in English. Helen suggested listening
to James’ studies on John and Romans, with a King James Bible alongside, then writing
to James with any questions. And of course, we had a final glimpse of the “town atheist”
who couldn’t help by come over to clash one last time with James and Patrick. He was
rebuked sharply for the final time!

As usual,
we had many one-liners and a bit of back-and-forth with some others. There’s not much
that could have prepared us! Here’s a sampler:

Most
common answers:

--No
thanks.

--I’m
good

--I’m
alright

--I’m
already saved

--I’m
a Christian

--I’m
a believer.

--What
church do you go to?

And
the most interesting:

--I’m
the biggest sinner on earth (said with no sorrow, only a sarcastic laugh!)

--I’m
going to burn (also said as a joke, but Hell is no laughing matter)

--No
thanks, I’m a pagan

--Why
does that message have to be so negative? The gospel is love and hope [Helen: what
about Jesus and the cross?]

--[From
a lady:] I’m also an ex-Catholic, I’m an Anglican priest [James: there are no female
priests in the Bible] [Her reply:] Where have you been in the last few years? Take
your tract back!

--Good
job, much appreciated

--I
don’t want one

--[Overheard,
mother to child:] It’s about Jesus [Child:] What about Jesus?

--I
became a Christian two years ago, I read my Bible most days but it’s hard to understand
some things and I have no one to teach me

--Sorry,
the tract is not in English so I won’t take it; Welsh is the language of heaven. [Enrique
spoke with this man two times: once in Cambridge and once in St. Ives, an hour away.
Can you believe it?]

--So
he still hates gays, heh?

--We’ve
got one, thank you

--I’m
an atheist, thank you

--If
he made all men, why are Muslims killing people? [Our reply:] Because man makes religion,
not God

--Do
you have a local presence?

--I
know that verse [pointing to the banner]! [Our reply:] Do you read the Bible? [Answer:]
I’m a Christian, I don’t need to

--Already
born again in the Spirit of God

--No,
I’m a witch, wouldn’t do any good [sadly, this woman showed me her pentagram, and
she had a small child. Does she even wonder where she is leading her child?]

--How
do we know He exists? [Our reply:] There are probably 28 ways; just look everywhere
you go

--Sorry,
can’t carry that

--Oh
that’s very nice

--Do
you want some Swiss rolls? [Our reply:] No thanks, but you could give them to a homeless
person

--I’m
not really a believer (but he did take a tract)

--No
thank you, I’ve got a Bible

--I
already know the Lord [Our reply:] Take it and give it to someone. [Answer:] That’s
okay, I know the Lord without that

--I
don’t do gospel

--I
deny it, I do my best [in reply to the tract with Psalm 41:4 on top]

--Can
I have another one? A small one for my girlfriend?

--I’m
a Catholic, a convert [Our reply: That’s ok, you can keep it and read it]

--That’s
not love, that’s not hope, that’s not redemption [Our reply:] Yes it is; it’s the
Bible [Loud and angry answer:] No it isn’t! [a passerby kindly told us “Wow, a lot
of angry people today!”]

--[About
the banner:] Can I take a picture?

--Yeah,
why not?

--I
haven’t got my Bible

--You
could have this verse

--Bless
you guys

--I
don’t believe in God

--No,
keep it!

--End
times already here!

--Why?
Ok, I’ll just take it!

--I
don’t speak English

--I
already went to church today

--No,
thanks. Oh, sorry! The gospel? Yes, of course I’ll take it!!!

--What’s
that? Oh right, here’s what I think of that... [man ripped the tract right in front
of us and threw it on the ground]

Much
of this saddens us. First, that there is much apathy and sometimes even anger. We
fear for all of these who will one day remember at the Great White Throne the day
they were offered the gospel and refused. Or they accepted the news but then forgot
about it.

Still,
we noticed the Lord turning us the way He wanted us to go, we had a lot of the usual
Satanic opposition before and after outreach, and we trust the Lord’s words:

“So
shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void,
but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto
I sent it” (Isaiah 55:11).

"Thank
you for being a friend. When I came across your videos on YouTube I was in amazement.
The way you explain the verses is truly a gift by God. I listen to your videos every
day. You are truly blessed."

"You’re
a blessing to the saved and to the unsaved as well. I pray the Lord continues to guide
and bless your Bible studies. I do not have Internet, so I downloaded your Book of
Revelation and Acts Bible studies. It's a wonderful thing to thirst for God's words."

"I'm
studying Timothy right now, and thankfully I stumbled onto one of your videos. Thank
you so much for making them. I am going to be reading the Bible with my sister tonight
for the first time, so this was a really huge blessing. Thank you again and God bless!"

"Thank
you so much for your videos. I am an ex-Roman Catholic blessed to have been allowed
to turn away from their false teachings. I have owned many versions of the Bible but
now only trust the KJV. It's discouraging, the pastors I trusted to learn about God,
to discover their falseness. But I refuse to give up. Joyce, Joel, Kenneth, Oral...the
list goes on. I desperately crave truth. I know that Satan has been attacking me and
I would rather die than let him win. Bless you for your help in my understanding God's
word. Please continue helping others like me."

"Thank
you James, I call Charles Lawson my 'Pastor' and will now call you, My ''Bible Study
Leader." The Lord has put me in very good and learned hands. God Bless."

"Hello
James: I greatly appreciate your work of all your open-air pulpit & New Testament
videos & greatly appreciated you uploading them on SoundCloud. Years ago you did
a Bible study on the book of Matthew which is my favourite gospel of the four &
was wondering if you could upload that onto SoundCloud at your convenience. I have
downloaded all your Bible studies of the New Testament & most of your open-air
pulpits & have put it all on my iPod to bring with me to work. Truly I mean this
with all sincerity, you & your father Patrick are blessed, & I hope you continue
teaching us all God's word for many more years to come as it helps me try to build
a relationship with our Triune God."

"Thanks
James. I don't think most people understand how hard you work to get Heavenly Father's
word out to the world. I put you on and fall asleep listening to your commentary.
Ask God to bless you and provide and protect you as you do his work. In Jesus Christ’s
name."